'The community's teenage population was born across the border and the majority lost a parent or sibling while the twelve-year war raged.'

Holly Bruford explains the bloody past of the Rio Lempa river, on the border of El Salvador and Honduras.

I returned to El Salvador recently to lead a group of US high school students on their ‘Global Awareness in Action’ travel program across the country (see here).

We spent a morning close to the Rio Lempa river in the mountainous region of Cabanas.

I found myself turning down several requests from the group to swim to the other side, thus crossing El Salvador’s northern border line and stepping onto Honduran soil.

Zulma, 17, from the local village of Santa Marta, had accompanied us on our excursion. Sitting together on a rock she told me “You think it too dangerous to cross now, but imagine back then, men formed a line across the river and passed women and children above their heads to get them to the other side.”

Zulma was referring to the 18th of March, 1981, when her parents, along with 7,000 others, fled from civil war to take refuge in Honduras and find peace.

As I discovered on my last visit to El Salvador, that month of March in 1981 brought anything but peace.

Disappearances

The assassination of the country’s Archbishop was being commemorated one year on, disappearances were commonplace and increased government sponsored offensives widespread in an attempt to stamp out the uprising of left wing guerrilla groups.

When word arrived in Santa Marta that the army was sweeping across the region and that the latest military strategy was to leave nothing behind, they had no choice but to run.

As strong as the river currents were last week we could only imagine the battle to cross the river all those years ago when the military ordered the opening of the dam upstream, helicopters opened fire from above, and Honduran soldiers, in collaboration with El Salvador, poised armed and ready on the other side.

Over 300 people were killed or disappeared that night. Zulma’s parents, however, somehow survived and spent the following eight years in a Honduran refugee camp where Zulma and her siblings were born.

Zulma’s story is common in Santa Marta: the community’s teenage population was born across the border and the majority lost a parent or sibling while the twelve-year war raged. Zulma lost her father, sister and uncle.

It is a truly eye-opening experience for any teenager visiting Santa Marta from the western world. Despite similar ages, interests and music tastes, the stories shared have been incomparable and the reality of war unfathomable for my group of high school students.

Energy

They have seen first hand the effects of war and the loss endured. But in addition to this they have had the opportunity to witness the inspirational energy these local teenagers commit to the rebuilding of their community and the construction of their future.

Zulma explains: “The people here - we have rebuilt Santa Marta from razed earth. Today we have a school with 15 classrooms, a hall, a library, and a computer lab. There are 1,000 students that attend. Before the war Santa Marta had no school, classes were taught beneath a tree.”

Zulma, like her peers, is also involved in the local HIV/AIDS awareness group and the youth run radio station.

At certain moments during their three-week stay my students have expressed feelings of inadequacy upon seeing the level of local youth awareness of the national social, political and economic situation.

They have also been awed by the realisation of what community based youth groups, and people like Zulma, can achieve.

For the youth of Santa Marta, however, teenagers who come to hear their stories are an essential tool in the continued struggle to combat the relentless repression.

Although the signing of the Peace Accords in 1992 promised a bright future for the people of El Salvador, almost 15 years later little change can be seen. Many describe their situation as worse than before the war began.

“Only through our story being told will there be hope for real change”, Zulma explained.

I feel safe in the knowledge that my students will indeed be returning home with a story to tell. The question is whether their voices will be heard.

• Email from Central America index
• Email from America index